


This is what friends do

by Sojmilk (orphan_account)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Basically all the members of ovw are included/alluded to, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Medical Trauma, Rating Might Change, Slow Burn, Tags Added As I Go, Unbeta'd, also references to shrek the sheep, but these are the main ones, fake marriage au, fitting as many tropes as fucking possible, its a pretty fluffy fic but there are gonna be some heavy moments, kinda ooc hanzo sorry im still rly learning how to write him, like he doesn't get it At All, like really i'm gonna eke this one out, past trauma tho, really fucking oblivious jesse mccree, referenced dad gabe, set in New Zealand, so some angst which makes it..
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Sojmilk
Summary: Hanzo and Jesse find themselves in a fake marriage situation that becomes easier and easier to play along with. Are they even still acting?Self-indulgent fluffy filler fic with some heavy undertones. Vishkar is involved.THIS FIC IS DISCONTINUED!! I fell out of mchanz, sorry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is kind of a filler fic while I write a much longer and more detailed one, but it's nonetheless fun to write, and, I hope, fun to read!  
> I've done a lot of work on how I approach the characters and am (hopefully) avoiding harmful tropes. No woobified or abusive Hanzo here. If you do notice anything that feels off in regards to the way the characters great each other, please let me know! But *griffin mcelroy voice* please be nice

Jesse narrowed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and fired three shots, quick as a heartbeat. The bots fell, silent, unmoving. Wiping away the sweat that was trickling into his eyes, he collapsed onto the ground near his canteen, and untwisted the lid with one hand. After taking a draught of water, he squinted at Hanzo, a few feet away, checking his arrows for cracks and flaws. They'd been on the range for a few hours, and the hot midday sun was bearing down on them. Jesse was glad for his stetson.

 

“Y'know, you should invest in a hat,” he advised. “What with your undercut, you could get burned pretty bad in this heat.” Hanzo mumbled a response that sounded suspiciously like “ruins my aesthetic,”.

“What, punk edgelord?” he laughed, only half-joking. Hanzo's style was practical for the most part, although Jesse did occasionally wonder what the chances of a bridge piercing catching on a bow string were. Hanzo's refusal to wear a hat would one day be his downfall, especially in this goddamn summer heat.

Hanzo changed the subject. “Why are you complaining about the heat, anyway? I thought you came from the desert,” he stood, collecting his arrows, and hovering, clearly waiting for Jesse to stand up so they could leave. Obliging him, Jesse shrugged as they walked inside. “I'm used to it, sure, but it doesn't mean I like it. What I would give to be somewhere cold right now.”

 

*

Jesse jiggled his knee anxiously under the table. Satya, sitting next to him, shot him a look, and he stopped for a moment, but she muttered under her breath, “No, you don't need to stop. Are you ok?” He nodded, grateful. “The delay's makin' me nervous is all.” He never knew what was coming, at these meetings. He just wanted it over with. The briefing had been announced just after dinner, and he'd been nervous all evening.

Winston, sorting papers in the corner, turned around then, looking at the door, through which hushed laughs could be heard. He sighed, pushed his glasses up his nose, and strode over to the doorway, pulling it open and sticking his head out. “Please, stop loitering out in the corridor. This isn't highschool.” Stepping back into the room, he held the door for Hana, Zenyatta, and Genji, who filed in, still chuckling over some joke. Hana and Genji fell into seats across from Jesse, and Zenyatta hovered near them.

 

Winston cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the room. “Thank you. We've received some information about Vishkar's recent movements.” Next to him, Jesse sensed Satya stiffening. It had been under a year since she'd reached out to Overwatch and asked to join their ranks. She didn't like to talk about her time with Vishkar, and tended to freeze up whenever it was mentioned. Jesse shot her a sympathetic smile, which she reciprocated, albeit a little woodenly.

 

Oblivious to her discomfort, Winston continued. “We have reason to believe that an orphanage in New Zealand is a cover for a Vishkar recruitment program. They're recruiting children they believe to be 'gifted', much like Agent Vaswani was.” Jesse perked up at that – Overwatch business rarely stretched as far as New Zealand, a typically peaceful country. Lena, crocs up on the table, leaned forward. “Are there even enough orphans in New Zealand for that, love? Didn't think they had a big issue with homeless kids.”

Winston looked downcast. “Several radiocative labs across the country were breached, about six months ago. Death rates were in the hundreds, and thousands more are still being affected. We didn't think it was relevant to us, until just recently...We're not sure if it was Vishkar, or why they'd do it, but it certainly has resulted in an unusual amount of orphaned and homeless children. Not only is Vishkar attempting to recruit _children_ , but any child they deem 'ungifted' is neglected if they're not adopted first.”

 

Christ, that was awful. Jesse wondered momentarily why he hadn't heard anything about it, but, not being one to read the paper (“Too much doom 'n gloom,” he'd reply when asked why. “Gotta keep my head somehow.”) it wasn't so much of a surprise. Mutters around the table were cut off as Winston began speaking again. “Anyway, it's been decided that Agent McCree and Shimada will be the ones to investigate.”

 _What?_ Jesse shot Hanzo a look of confusion, who didn't appear fazed. “Why's that, Winston?” Jesse asked. He didn't have an issue with them working alone, but it wasn't a common occurrence, let alone have them working alone so far away.

“New Zealand is a farming country, largely,” Winston replied. “You have a certain...Southern hospitality, and have a great deal of experience undercover. And Agent Shimada lived in New Zealand for a while. He has more first-hand knowledge of it than anybody else here. As well as that, you work well together.”

Hanzo having lived in New Zealand was news to Jesse. He wondered vaguely what he had been doing there. Teaching archery?

 

Winston walked around the table, handing him and Hanzo a file each, containing fake birth certificates, visas, passports, the whole deal. . He also passed Lena, Lucio, and Hana their own. “You three will be backup, and on-call. I'm basing you in Auckland, while McCree and Shimada will be in the South Island.” Returning to his original position at the head of the table, Winston addressed everybody again. “For those remaining – business as usual. That's all, really, you can leave now.” Chairs started to scrape, but Winston raised a hand. “Except McCree and Shimada, I need to brief you two further.”

 

Winston waited until the room had cleared before asking them to open their files. “Your undercover status is as a married couple,” he told them. Jesse raised an eyebrow at Hanzo, but said nothing. Hanzo wasn't even looking at him, his gaze fixed on Winston.

 

“I want you to investigate the orphanage by pretending you're interested in adoption. It's customary for couples looking to adopt to spend a lot of time at the orphanage and with the child, which should give you an opportunity to find out what's happening behind the scenes.”

Jesse leaned back in his chair, the flimsy metal structure squeaking beneath his weight. “How'd you get this information, Winston? Didn't think we had contacts down under.”

Winston looked uncomfortable. “We have a wary alliance with some junkers. They meddled with Talon a few months ago. Lena and Genji were on a scouting mission at the time, and managed to help them escape. In return, they – there were two – offered to feed us information every now and then, from Australia and New Zealand. I don't like it, but they're useful.”

For the first time, Hanzo spoke up. “So, our secret identities. He held up his fake birth certificate. “Tell us more about them.” Jesse tried to catch his eye, throw him a smile, but Hanzo either didn't notice, or was avoiding him.

 

“Ah, yes. Joel and Haruki Morricone.” Winston turned to pick up his own copies of the files Jesse and Hanzo were holding. Thumbing through them, he addressed Hanzo first. “You – or rather, Haruki – is an architectual engineer. New Zealand frequently has earthquakes, and some towns and cities still don't have sound buildings, so Haruki was employed to work on those buildings. He's forty-two -” Hanzo made a scoffing noise. Winston looked up from his papers to fix him with a stare, and then returned to his description of Haruki Morricone, nee Kurihara. “He's forty-two, cares deeply about the environment, and has an affinity for cats.” At this last point, Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Winston shrugged, unable to stop a smile. “Just a fun Haruki feature. To help you _be_ Haruki, and not Hanzo.” Hanzo bristled. He _hated_ cats. They shed everywhere, were too loud, and needed affection but refused to reciprocate it. He wasn't going to argue; he respected Winston, and although he resented the 'fun' addition, he thought that maybe Winston had a point. Hanzo hated cats. Haruki loved them. By pretending to love cats, he could pretend to be Haruki with more ease. That's how it worked, right?

“Fine.”

Satisfied, Winston directed his attention to Jesse. “Ok, Joel Morricone. He's a writer - a reporter, actually. He writes for an international online company, so his work wasn't interrupted by the move. He's forty, likes Agatha Christie, and -” he looked Jesse dead in the eye, a steely gaze. “Is tee-total.”

“Aw, Winston, really?” Jesse was thoroughly put out. “Does this just mean no drinking in public, or not at all?”

“Not at all. I know you can hold your liquour, but I need you aware at all times.” Winston rubbed his temples. “And I think a month or two without a drink would be good for Jesse McCree as well as Joel Morricone.”

He had a point, Jesse conceded. “I hear ya. No drinks for me.” He shot a pleading look at Hanzo. “Does that mean you won't be drinking, too?”

Hanzo smirked, finally meeting his eyes. “I've been given no such restrictions.”

Winston coughed. “I'm not going to ban you from alcohol, Agent Shimada, but I will request you don't taunt McCree with it.” Jesse felt a flush spread over his cheeks. 'Don't taunt McCree with it', as if he were a kid. He opened his mouth to speak, but Winston, possibly realizing the sudden rise of tension, hastily continued. “You uh – you met in your mid twenties. I'll let you discuss between yourselves the details. You were married eleven years ago.” Out of his own file, Winston pulled a small plastic bag containing two gold bands. “Here are your rings.” He opened the bag and placed a ring in each of their outstretched palms. “You don't need to put them on now, but if you think you'll lose them otherwise, do. The city you're going to be in is called Christchurch – it's a very active earthquake zone. Do be careful about that, it's more than likely you'll be there for at least a couple of earthquakes.” He peered into the file. “One more thing. About the orphanage. You're going to need to speak to all the kids, and decide on one to eventually 'adopt' – except you won't be adopting them. I don't know how much either of you are soft for children, but it might be a little difficult leaving them. Please just keep in mind that they'll have a better life with Vishkar out of it.”

Jesse nodded. He'd already run through that in his mind. “Sure thing. What are our plans for once we've dealt with Vishkar?”

 

Winston grimaced. “Still in progress. I wish we had more of a solid idea of what you're both getting into, but it's imperative that you get in there to find out as soon as possible. 76 and I will formulate a plan once you've fed us more information.”

Hanzo was quiet. He looked deep in thought. Jesse wondered how he felt about having to build up a relationship with a child, and then completely remove themselves from that relationship. Now that he thought about it more, it was a cruel concept.

 

Winston ended the meeting, and Jesse waited for Hanzo outside, in the corridor. “Everything ok?” he asked as they walked through the watchpoint back to their rooms.

“Yes. Thank you. I'm just very tired.” Fair enough; it was almost midnight. Their extra briefing had gone on a while. “I'm going to go to bed now. I'll see you in the morning, 'Joel'.” Hanzo stopped outside his room, and hesitated a moment before entering. He really did look tired, Jesse noticed. His hair was coming down from its ponytail, and a shadow of stubble was showing on his jaw. Hanzo wiped a hand over his face as if it brush away his exhaustion, and managed a smile. Jesse noticed he was already wearing the ring. “Goodnight.” He turned, and the door was already sliding closed again by the time Jesse replied, “Yeah, night. Sleep well.”

 

*

Lena was so excited to be travelling on an actual commercial flight, she chattered incessantly the entire drive to the airport. Jesse would have been able to keep up fine if it weren't six in the morning, he'd had a coffee or at least a cigar, and he hadn't stayed up until two am on wikipedia, looking up as much as he could about Christchurch, and New Zealand in general. All he could remember from his early morning investigations was that it was the home of the sheep named 'Shrek', who had avoided muster for six years, and when he was finally caught and shorn, the mass weight of the wool shaved off was 60 pounds. “He even met the prime minister,” he told Lena, trying to combat her mile-a-minute pace with his own.

“Crikey, that's a lot of wool,” she laughed. “What a weird thing to call a sheep!”

Hanzo interrupted at that moment with a snore. He was asleep in the passenger seat, his arms thrown around himself like a hug. Jesse's gaze lingered on him, looking so small for such a muscular man. His knees were drawn in towards his chest, feet propped up on the dashboard. His hair was down from its usual ponytail, and hung around his shoulders instead.

 

Lucio, sitting next to Jesse, broke him from his reverie, passing him a fake passport. “Look at my name, man,” he chuckled. Jesse glanced at the passport and snorted. “Luigi? Who chose these names?” Hana leaned over to look too, and burst out laughing. “Hey, you've got the right colour scheme!” she insisted. “You wear green, Luigi wears green. Jesse, you could be Mario – you wear red.”

Lena joined in their laughing, filling the van with noise, and causing such a ruckus that Hanzo woke up, leaning blearily into the backseat to look at the passport. “Luigi, huh? At least you don't have to like cats.”

 

The airport was crowded, despite the early hour. Jesse didn't often fly commercially – none of them did. Overwatch had its own aircrafts, so using their funds for flights was unnecesary, and bad budgeting. In this case, though, without any contacts in the country itself, and not much knowledge of the areas they would be working in, an Overwatch ship would draw too much attention.

The moment they stepped into the line for check-in, they were no longer Hanzo, Jesse, Lucio, Hana, and Lena; they were Haruki, Joel, Luigi, Hae-Won, and Laurel.

Hanzo hovered close to Jesse in line, fiddling with the ring on his left hand. Jesse, prompted by this, was shaken by a jolt of adrenaline, patted the pocket of his jeans, and – thank god, the ring was in there. He slipped it on, grateful that he hadn't lost it. They all checked in and boarded without a hitch. Jesse had plans to ask for a coffee once they were in the air, but much to his chagrin, found himself falling asleep before they'd even taken off, and slipped into unconsciousness just as the safety briefing began.

 

Jesse didn't wake up until they were flying over Africa – not that he could see through the fluffy clouds the plane was skimming. He stretched in his seat, and looked to his right to see Hanzo watching a movie, a cup of coffee in his hand. Jesse didn't want to shove past him and interrupt his movie, but he badly wanted coffee. He nudged him gently. Hanzo took out an earbud. “Hmm?”

“Don't want to interrupt your movie – can I have some of your coffee?”

Hanzo handed it to him. “I got it for you.” He put his earbud back in, returning his full attention to the movie in front of him, some old-time flick with a lot of focus on the cinematography.

“Thank you,” Jesse took a grateful draught of the coffee. It was still hot. He turned on his own screen, selected a movie, and settled in for the long flight ahead. Hanzo's elbow rested on their shared armrest, warming his own arm in the slightly chilly air. _What I would give to be somewhere cold right now_. Well, here he was. Even in the chill, Hanzo kept some warmth for him.

 

*

 

Twenty-four-odd hours after boarding, the team disembarked, stretching, blinking, rubbing their eyes. Auckland was _cold_ , their breath steaming in the frigid evening air as they trundled their cases along the pavement outside, trying to locate taxi pickup. It wasn't hard; the airport was tiny in comparison to other international airports. Two taxis pulled up, and Lena leaned in to each of the windows to give the name of the hotel they'd be staying at that night. They piled in, Lucio and Lena in one, Hana, Hanzo, and Jesse in the other. Lucio's sound equipment took up a lot of space, and Hana hadn't been able to fit in. Her mecha was still being shipped over, thank god. He'd half-expected Winston to buy it a seat in the plane.

 

It was nearing eight pm when they were finally shown to their rooms. The three younger ones were sharing a room, and Hanzo and Jesse, the 'married couple', were sharing their own. The rooms had already been paid for; Lena had let Winston know the moment the touched down, and he'd quickly secured their lodgings for that night. Hanzo and Lucio discussed a place to eat, and they decided they'd meet in the lobby in an hour to go out to whatever place was closest. Their rooms were on different floors, so they unmixed their luggage, and Jesse and Hanzo made their way to the elevators.

 

“The accents are so weird here,” Jesse commented to Hanzo once they were in the elevator, having passed a loud conversation. They spoke so _nasally_ , almost like Australians. Hanzo shrugged. “It takes a while to get used to. I like the native dialect – it shares the same vowel sounds as Japanese.” The doors opened with a _woosh_ and they dragged their cases along the corridor to their room, number 406. Hanzo unlocked it with the key card they'd been given, and they found themselves in a simple, plush-looking room. It was ok, Jesse thought, glancing around. And then his eyes caught on the bed. The _one_ bed.

 

“Ah, shit. Married. I kinda forgot. Just our first night – want me to sleep on the floor or something? The carpet looks soft enough,” he toed at it doubtfully, half-wishing he hadn't said anything. Hanzo swung his bag from his shoulder to the floor. “Don't be ridiculous. I don't mind sharing -” a stricken look crossed his face. “That is, if you don't. If one of us sleeps on the floor, it will be me. It isn't too dissimilar to sleeping on a futon.” Jesse noticed Hanzo was chewing his lip.

“No, I don't mind. Just didn't want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, and dropped his bags, too. Hanzo's back was turned as he pulled clean clothes from his suitcase. “I'm not uncomfortable,” he said quietly. And then, at a normal volume, “I'm going to take a shower – I feel so unclean after the flight. I won't be long, so you can take one after me.” He didn't make eye contact with Jesse, fumbling his clothes as he made for the ensuite. Jesse watched him go, and realised he was chewing his own lip.

 

Sharing a bed. The thought of it made his stomach flip in a way it hadn't for a long time. He tried to quell the sensation. He'd had a crush on Hanzo for a while now, but that's all it was – a crush. And this was work. Not a romantic getaway.

He pulled off his boots, and sorted through his own clothes, picking out a clean plaid. Hanzo probably _was_ uncomfortable, but his damn selflessness made him deny it, for Jesse's sake. Jesse cast a longing look at his stetson, carefully swaddled in his favourite red serape, and, remembering the cold, opted for a beanie instead. He dumped his chosen clothes in a pile, and collapsed on the bed while he waited for Hanzo. _He's probably going to take a while because he doesn't want to have to spend any more time with you than he has to,_ the goblin in Jesse's head supplied. “Go away,” he mumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. He and Hanzo were friends, and he knew that. He'd let his insecurities dampen his hopes for reciprocated romantic feelings, but his and Hanzo's friendship was too important to him to let _that_ be affected, too.

 

He must have fallen asleep, because he had to wake up. “Wake _up_ , Jesse,” Hanzo was shaking his shoulder. His hair was still wet, and smelled of hotel shampoo. Jesse scrubbed at his eyes. “We've got only fifteen minutes unti we're supposed to be meeting the others.”

“Ah, shit!” He sat upright. “Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, scooped up his clothes, and jumped across the room to the bathroom. “Won't be ten minutes!” he called, the shower already turned on.

 

The water was so soothing on his skin, quickly washing away the grimy feeling that had accumulated over the long flight – and the unpleasant feelings of inadequacy that had been plaguing him, too. He emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and regained confidence, his cheeks flushed from the heat. Hanzo's cheeks were flushed, too, although Jesse couldn't figure why – the room was warm, but not hot. They made to leave, but at the door, Hanzo gestured to Jesse's chest. “Your shirt isn't buttoned up enough.”

Jesse glanced down. Hanzo was right, he'd neglected the top four buttons. Too much. His sternum was in sight. He quickly buttoned up to his clavicle. “Better?” Hanzo nodded his affirmation, and they left together, arriving in the lobby just as Hana – Hae-Won, Jesse reminded himself – ran in, tearing through the room, coming to a stop at the revolving doors. Lucio and Lena were already there, and Lena gave them a two-fingered salute.

“Hello, you two! Ready to eat?”

 

It turned out the closest restaurant was a korean barbeque joint, which Hana was extremely pleased about. She didn't even consult the menu before launching into Korean to the woman behind the counter, who looked pleased to be addressed in her own language. The food was good; hot and filling, and Jesse ate more melted cheese and corn than he felt he probably should. Their body clocks were still set to late morning Gibraltar, but the warm food in their stomachs made them all sleepy, and they walked back to the hotel happy and ready for bed. The three younger ones bid Hanzo and Jesse goodnight, and they parted ways for the evening.

“You still feeling ok about sharing a bed?” Jesse asked as the elevator took them upwards. Hanzo shot him a sideways look. “Yes. Of course. If I'd changed my mind, I would tell you, I promise.” A moment passed, and he added, “Are you still feeling ok about it?”

Jesse nodded. _More than ok_.

 

They brushed their teeth side-by-side, elbows knocking into each other's more than once. Hanzo brushed his hair before settling down into a meditation position on the floor. At Jesse's quizzical expression, he explained, “Genji taught me how to meditate. I have...nightmares sometimes, and a calm and relaxed mind helps me to sleep better.”

Jesse nodded. He understood; he had night terrors, too. Maybe he should ask Genji to teach him to meditate. He wryly thought back to their Blackwatch days together. Angela had suggested meditation to Genji as a way to distract him from his rampant self-hatred and rage, but alas, the concept had gone untouched. Jesse was grateful for the serendipitous events which brought Genji and Zenyatta together; the man Genji used to be was long gone, replaced by someone sure of himself and his mind.

“I'll make sure I stay quiet, then,” he said, pulling himself from his thoughts, and focusing his attention instead on the files in his hand. He was reading through Joel Morricone's file again, familiarizing himself with, well, himself. He'd always enjoyed undercover work, and been good at it, too. That wasn't going to stop now.

 

By the time he was ready to go to sleep, Hanzo was finishing his meditation. Jesse turned off the lamp on his side of the bed and settled down, pulling the covers over his shoulder. Hanzo slipped beneath the covers, too, cold feet brushing Jesse's legs. “Goddamn!” he yelped. “Ever hear of socks?”

Hanzo laughed. “Why would I need socks? I have a bedmate.” No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, he flushed deep red. “I didn't – I didn't mean it like that, I apologise.”

Jesse laughed too. “No, I get what you meant. Don't you think I'll tolerate cold feet on me without some form of recompense, though,” and he put his feet on Hanzo's calves in retaliaton. They scuffled, laughing, and out of breath, until their feet were warm, and their legs were interwined. Hanzo's breathing was slowing, and Jesse found himself sleepily gravitating towards him, until there was no gap between them, only the thin barriers of their pajamas. It was comfortable, and warm, and they were friends, and this is what friends did, they trusted each other enough to sleep closer than sardines in a can. Friends stayed that way all night. That's what friends did.

Or at least, that's what they did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conclusion if chapter one! You can always find me on tumblr at muddyke for day-to-day shitposting and at sojmilk for art that tends to be mchanzo.  
> I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and my next one should be up within a day or two.


	2. Chapter 2

Hanzo, as it turned out, was a terrible bedmate. Sure, Jesse stuck to him like glue the whole night through, but that didn't erase the fact he woke up what felt like every five minutes to tug the covers back over his shivering body or swat Hanzo's hair out of his face. At one point, Hanzo, discontent with his own side, rolled and shuffled around until Jesse, previously spooning him for comfort, was now clutching to him in a desperate attempt to stay on the bed. Eventually, as a last-ditch effort, Jesse hauled himself over Hanzo, manouevered himself under the covers again (easier said than done; Hanzo had wrapped his side of the duvet around his legs) and managed to fall asleep again. By some act of mercy, Hanzo didn't push him off again, and neither of them woke until Lucio was pounding on their door, yelling that he was hungry, and could they please get their asses into gear so they could all get breakfast? 

 

After going out for breakfast at a small cafe just down the road from the Korean barbeque restaurant, the team decided to go shopping - Hana had been shivering and complaining about not packed enough warm clothes. She and Lena linked arms as they walked, and, spotting something of interest in a window, ducked into a niche-looking shop. Lucio shot an apologetic grimace at Hanzo and Jesse, tapped the comm in his ear to remind them he was a press of a button away, and followed. Half a day to wile away before their eight o'clock flight to Christchuch that evening, Hanzo and Jesse were left standing alone in the street. The sky above was growing heavier, threatening rain. They looked at each other. Jesse's eyes lingered momentarily on the curve of Hanzo's cheekbones, pink in the cold. A stray lock of hair had fallen from Hanzo's messy updo, and Jesse's fingers longed to tuck it back into place, but he quickly pulled himself together, hardly missing a beat, clearing his throat to fill the silence.  
“Best find someplace to stay out of the rain,” he supplied eventually when Hanzo didn't speak. Was he ok? He seemed kinda zoned out, just staring at Jesse. At his beard or something. Jesse self-consciously ran a hand over it in case he'd dropped some yoghurt into it. Or was he just uncomfortable because Jesse had, in turn, been staring at him? Hanzo seemed to snap out of it, and brought his eyes back to Jesse's. “Uh – yes, out of the rain.” He shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his coat, and looked around, not meeting Jesse's eyes. “Down that street?” He gestured towards a sheltered walking street, enticing them both with the promise of keeping dry.

The rain started just as they got undercover, half jogging onto the cobbled road to avoid it. Fat drops hammered on canvas street coverings, drowning out their voices unless they yelled. Jesse couldn't help a smile sneaking over his face; he loved the rain. Sneaking a look at Hanzo, (why was he sneaking?) he saw that he, too, was grinning, his face turned upwards to the source of the sound. Jesse had been about to yell something over the din, but whatever it was – he'd already forgotten – stuttered and died in his throat. Hanzo's jaw looked...good. What would the scruff of stubble at the edge of his jaw feel like under Jesse's fingers? The rain slowed to a gentle shower as quickly as it had begun, and Hanzo turned to look back at Jesse. For a moment his smile dropped, replaced with an expression Jesse couldn't place. Concern? Discomfort? But then it was back in full force, and his cheeks were pink.  
“You ok, Haruki? You look a little red. D'you need to get some water?”  
Hanzo turned a deeper shade of pink. “No, I'm just warm. I need to take this scarf off -” he struggled with the snood around his neck, bending down to stuff it into his satchel, and exhaled. When he stood up, his skin had returned to its normal pigment. “Better. Want to take a look around?”  
Jesse nodded, and they continued down the street. It had an almost italian vibe to it. “Effects of colonization,” Jesse commented, and Hanzo agreed. “New Zealand is its own country now, though. They requested their independence of the throne in 2025, a year after the queen died. It was given them without a fuss, but European architecture and culture had already been present here for a century or so, and it's still evident.” he drew breath, and looked pleased with himself for his knowledge of the country. Jesse's impressed 'huh!' widened his smile. 

They came to a stop halfway down the street, sitting down on a bench. A few people were milling around, but it was quiet. “Did you want to go shopping?” Hanzo asked. Jesse shrugged. “Don't really need anything. Just enjoyin' the company.”  
Hanzo smiled at that. “You flatter me.” He crossed an ankle over his knee, and promptly uncrossed it again. “But...could we go get coffee? I need my bean fix. I can't believe that cafe didn't serve caffeine.”  
Jesse grinned mischeviously. “Served dandelion coffee.”  
Hanzo pushed him with his shoulder, a look of cheerful disgust on his face. “Don't drag coffee's name through the mud like that!” Standing up, he put his hands on his hips. Jesse stood too. “Ok, ok, I'm coming.”  
“Thank god,” Hanzo sighed. “I didn't sleep so well last night.”  
Jesse choked on a laugh. “Huh.”

*

They somehow located a starbucks before Hanzo completely detoriorated. Jesse tried to order, but neither he nor the cashier understood each other, their strong accents conflicting with each other. Luckily, Hanzo stepped in; the cashier went from looking completely lost to confident and chatty; Jesse was given time to gather his pride; Hanzo got his coffee order in. Jesse didn't realise Hanzo had ordered him a coffee too, until “Joel!” was shouted through the building and Hanzo, realizing Jesse hadn't twigged that this was his name, leapt forward to collect it for him.  
“Spacing out, babe?” he asked as he handed the cup to Jesse, smiling slyly at him and disappearing again, briefly, to collect his own coffee, as “Haruki!” was yelled. 

They found seats near the back, by a large window overlooking a busy street, and sipped lazily at their coffees. Jesse, looking over the rim of his cup, addressed Hanzo. “How'd you know my order?”  
Hanzo met his eyes. “I didn't. But it's almost Halloween, and I know that you like themed drinks. I figured this,” he gestured to Jesse's pumpkin spice latte, “a safe bet.”  
Was he that easy to figure out? Jesse mumbled into his coffee. Themed drinks. He wasn't telling Hanzo this was his drink of choice all year round.  
“Sorry, I didn't hear that?” Hanzo was smirking. He was playing with him.  
“Uh. Yeah. Halloween drink. Good guess.” Jesse reached for the sugar, not breaking eye contact, and poured two packets in. Hanzo watched his actions in disgust, and Jesse defiantly drank the extremely salty coffee. He fought back the urge to gag, and forced a smile instead. “Delicious.” Glancing down at the empty paper packets in his hand confirmed that he'd just added two teaspoons of salt to his drink.  
“Haruki,” he sighed, giving up the pretense. “You're married to an idiot.”  
Hanzo reached across and patted his hand in consolation. “It isn't so bad. You can share mine.”

 

They rejoined the others an hour later, and returned to the hotel to pack their things and bundle them into the taxis that would take them all to the house where Lucio, Lena, and Hana would be staying. Lucio spoke to the woman who had the keys, and after she'd given them all a beady-eyed once-over, reminded them that the faucets required a lot of pressure to be turned on and off, finally left.  
Lena and Lucio went to buy groceries, and Hana took a nap. She hadn't slept on the flight, she explained – she'd been watching movies the whole time.  
Hanzo and Jesse located tea in a cupboard, brewed a pot, and drank it while draped over armchairs in the lounge, both on their laptops. Jesse was re-reading his file for the thousandth time, and researching the orphanage. There wasn't a lot about it on the internet yet; it had only been opened a month ago. Regardless, he'd expected there to be more information about it easily accessible. All he could really access was a conventional “about us”, a “contact” page, and a “schedule a visit” page. He followed the “about” link to see if he could gather anything from it, but it really was the epitome of regular. “Committed to rehoming orphaned children,” “High living standards kept within living quarters,” “No child left behind”. Actually, that last phrase was repeated several time throughout the page. It was unsettling.  
Hanzo was looking over his shoulder. “Trying to gain intel?” He asked. Jesse nodded wordlessly, suddenly exhausted. The sudden lul in activity was reminding him of his jetlag and sorry lack of sleep the night before. He closed his laptop.  
“Might follow in Hana's footsteps, 'n take a nap too. You ok with being the only one up?” He crossed the room to the couch and flopped down on it, holding off from lying down until Hanzo nodded.  
“Of course.” A smile. “Sleep well.”  
Jesse fell asleep quickly, but was once again woken, only this time it wasn't because of a foot in his back or the sensation of being about to fall on the floor, but because gentle hands were pulling a blanket over his shoulders, lingering on his back. He kept his eyes closed, his stomach dropping a little when Hanzo's hands lifted, and settling comfortably back when he felt Hanzo lowering himself carefully down onto the couch and draping his legs over Jesse's. He drifted back into unconsciousness with a smile quirking the corners of his mouth upward. 

*  
The flight to Christchurch took only an hour, and Hanzo fell asleep. He begrudgingly woke up upon landing, and he and Jesse quickly made their way through customs, coming out the other side frazzled and longing for bed. They were almost separated by a large group going the other way, and Jesse grabbed Hanzo's hand so he didn't lose him. It wasn't until they were outside, hailing a taxi that he realized he was still holding the other man's hand. He gave it a squeeze and unwillingly let go. He already missed the extra warmth.  
Inside the taxi, he read the address off his phone to the driver, and strapped himself in. Hanzo was quiet, not saying anything. Jesse assumed he was tired; after all, they'd done a lot of travelling in the past two days, and they still had to talk to the landlady before they could get into their apartment. 

Luckily for them, the landlady looked like she, too, just wanted to go to bed. She looked at Jesse with disdain, told him that if he played country music past ten she'd count it as grounds for immediate eviction, and left them to it.  
A cat snuck down the stairs she'd gone up, and twisted around Hanzo's ankles. He looked down at it with obvious displeasure, but, prompted by its incessant mewing, bent down to pat its head, a longsuffering expression on his face.  
Jesse unlocked the door, and Hanzo sprung away from the fluffy feline, bounding inside. The door closed, and the cat was gone. It could be heard through the door, meowing. Jesse was tempted to let it in, and subconsciously moved forward to do so, but Hanzo gave him a look that stopped him in his tracks. “If you let that cat in I really will push you off the bed tonight.” He spun on his heel and walked down the hallway, poking his head into rooms. He called back to Jesse, “Found the bedroom!” and disappeared inside, leaving Jesse in a state of bemusement.  
Mumbling to himself, he followed. “God...dammit. Goddammit.” He could hear Hanzo laughing quietly from the bedroom.

Hanzo was a much easier bedmate that night – or perhaps Jesse was just exhausted, and didn't wake up. When he'd gone to sleep, Hanzo had had his back to him, the soft glow of his phone screen lighting up his dark hair. Jesse'd tentatively shuffled close until his nose was just touching Hanzo's spine, thrown his prosthetic arm over Hanzo's side, and fallen asleep.  
He didn't know that the moment Hanzo heard his first snore, he'd turned off his phone, not wanting to disturb his friend's sleep. He didn't know that when Hanzo turned to face him, Jesse positioned himself so that his head was tucked under Hanzo's chin, his beard tickling Hanzo's neck. Perhaps if he'd been aware of his extreme physical proximity – somehow, their faces being so close made it a thousand times more intimate – he would have been embarassed. But he didn't know, and Hanzo didn't breathe a word of it in the morning, only remarked that Jesse had slept well.

“Felt it, too. Nobody pushed me off the bed.” He shot a shit-eating grin at Hanzo, who feigned innocence. “You didn't let the cat in. I had to keep my word.” 

They spent the morning organizing the apartment that would be their home for the next month or so. It was small, but cosy. What Jesse had taken to be rooms that Hanzo was inspecting along the corridor last night turned out to be mostly cupboards, bare, for the most part, other than a spare set of bedclothes, a towel set, and a vacuum cleaner. The place was already furnished, and even had a box of cereal in the pantry, though Hanzo refused to touch it. “We have no idea how long it's been in there,” he protested when Jesse stuck his hand in the bag to pull some out and eat it dry. “It doesn't have a best by date! You're probably eating weevils right now.” Jesse only grinned through a mouthful of puffed rice and almonds. “Extra protein, baby.”  
“Sure, ok...” Hanzo didn't finish his sentence, trailing off huffily, and turning to the sink of dishes he had gathered; all the china was sticky with disuse and dust. “Why don't you go buy some real food while I do these?”  
Jesse agreed – he wouldn't admit it, but he'd just eaten something with considerably more crunch quality than any of his previous mouthfuls would suggest safe.  
“I thought I saw someplace down the hill on the taxi ride here. Promise I won't get lost, but I've got my comm on anyway.” He paused, halfway through putting his boots on. “You'll be ok here alone?”

Hanzo only 'psh'd'. “Of course. I'm perfectly confident in my ability to protect myself. You have nothing to worry about.”  
Jesse nodded. “I know, I'm not at all worried about you protecting yourself. Just wanted to make sure you felt ok being somewhere new all alone.” He was remembering when Hanzo had first joined Overwatch, the way he'd followed Genji everywhere, avoiding being anywhere remote. He remembered that when Hanzo had finally opened up and begun making friends – when he and Hanzo had gotten close, Hanzo had confided in him that he couldn't bear being alone. I spent too long alone, he'd said. And it tore me apart. When I'm by myself, I convince myself of the things Genji – and you – have helped me to forget. That I'm not worth saving. Then he'd laughed dryly, and shaken his head. It's not important. Forget I said anything.  
But Jesse hadn't forgotten, and evidently, neither had Hanzo. Jesse could see what he'd said registering in Hanzo's face. His eyebrows knitted, and he seemed conflicted. Eventually, he replied, “Thank you...for your concern. But what I said that night was in a drunken haze. I meant it when I asked for you to forget.” He chewed his lip. “However, it does mean something to me that you care,” his expression softened, and he met Jesse's eyes. “I'll be fine. Thank you.”  
Convinced, Jesse plunked his stetson over his hair. “Well, alright. I'll see you soon,” and he left. 

*  
Jesse could hear voices coming from the apartment. An unfamiliar voice – deep – was laughing at something. Hanzo's voice, replying pleasantly, stopped Jesse from barging in guns blazing, but he was still wary. “Haruki, hon?” he called. “Hands are full, could you let me in?”  
He could hear heavy footsteps making their way to the door (he frowned. Hanzo's feet made pap pap sounds; he knew this because he found them endearing) and it swung open to reveal a tall woman with dark hair and a swirling tattoo on her chin. She stuck out her hand, and he put the shopping bags down to reciprocate, but when he offered his hand, she pulled him in close and pressed her forehead against his. Confused, he allowed the gesture, and was let go after a couple of seconds. “I'm Anahera,” she said. “You must be Joel? Your husband here has been telling me about you.”  
Jesse peered around her to glance at Hanzo – he would have looked over her shoulder, but she must have been at least 6'4” – and saw that his 'husband' looked completely relaxed, leaning against the bench, dishes done and put away.  
“Anahera is our downstairs neighbour,” he informed Jesse. She came up to greet me while you were gone.” He inclined his head towards the table, where an iced banana cake sat. “She brought us cake.”  
Jesse's southern hospitality kicked in – assisted by the cake. “Mighty nice to meet you. Hope we didn't make a ruckus comin' in so late last night?”  
Anahera shrugged. “Wouldn't know, I was out.” She retreated back to a chair she'd pulled out from the table, and sat down. “I work the graveyard shifts down at the metalworks.” She certainly looked like the type to work in a metalyard; it wasn't hard to see that she was strong and well built, her woolen jumper doing nothing to hide the fact. She held herself with confidence too, her back straight, her smile wide.

An arm snaked around Jesse's waist and he looked to see Hanzo beside him. Anahera coninued. “Actually, I only really just got back, and wanted to come say hi before I hit the hay.” She crossed her legs at the ankle, making no move to get up. “Couldn't bother you for a cuppa before I head back down, could I?”  
Hanzo looked to the shopping bags at Jesse's feet. “Did you get tea, honey?” The pet name shook Jesse, but he recovered quickly enough. “Uh – yeah, I did. Black tea for you and licorice for me – what do you drink, Anahera?”  
“Black tea, milk, no sugar,” she supplied immediately. Hanzo located the milk and teas and set to brewing them while Jesse busied himself putting away the groceries.  
Anahera watched them work with interest, and Jesse could feel her gaze on their backs. Feeling the pressure to sell their marriage to her, he was purposefully tender, touching the small of Hanzo's back with a free hand, passing him a teaspoon before he could ask, pausing in the middle of transferring flour into a large jar to just...look. (Athough, he conceded internally, that wasn't so much an act as giving in to a whim that he might otherwise have ignored.)

“So, how'd you two meet?” Anahera broke the comfortable silence, her resonant voice asking the question which they realised they hadn't decided an answer for yet.  
“Uh -” Jesse sent a panicked look Hanzo's way, halway through cutting into the banana cake.  
“Joel wrote an article on my university,' Hanzo replied, paying no mind to Jesse's frantic demeanour, and not missing a beat. “He interviewed a series of students, and I was one of them.” He paused to give Jesse a doe-eyed look. “It was love at first sight.”  
Jesse snorted, jumping in to contribute. “I didn't know that. He was so wrapped up in his studies I thought he was only obliging me. I took him out for coffee once and he insulted my choice of latte. Thought that was the end of that, and then he asked me to go steady the next day.”  
Hanzo patted his arm. “I think your taste in coffee is endearing, babe.” His touch sent electric waves up Jesse's arm, resulting in a glowing smile. “Yeah, well...Obviously.” He handed Anahera a plate with a slice of the cake on it.  
Anahera looked delighted. “Aw, that's so sweet! Did you get married soon after that?”  
Jesse shook his head, leaning back onto the bench by the sink. “Nah, took us a few years, didn't it hon?”  
Hanzo made an 'mm' of agreement, handing out cups of tea. Hoisting himself up on the counter next to Jesse, he took a long sip before speaking. “I was waiting for him to propose for almost five years of dating. I finally realised he was waiting for me, took him out to dinner, and popped the question. We were married two months later.”  
“My pa said it was the shortest engagement he'd ever heard of,” Jesse laughed. “Not that he can talk, I think he got hitched the moment he set eyes on his husband.” 

They laughed and talked over their teas. Jesse enjoyed the warm buzz of wow we really pulled that off in his chest, heightened by Hanzo's casual touches; brushing his fingers with his, leaning in when he laughed.  
When Anahera started opening her mouth to yawn more than speak, she excused herself. “Thanks for the tea, fellas,” she said. “I'll be seeing you around, I hope!” Jesse echoed the sentiment, and they said goodbye.  
Once the door had closed, Jesse gently extracted himself from Hanzo's arms. He assumed Hanzo had only been prolonging the physical contact out of mindlessness, or because he himself felt too awkward to address it. “She seems nice,” he said, draining the last dregs of tea from his mug. Hanzo watched him with an indescernible expression. Or – was Jesse imagining things, or did he look hurt?  
“...Yes. I enjoyed her company.”  
Jesse was about to ask him if something was wrong, but his comm beeped. He took it from his pocket and pressed the button. “Howdy.”  
Lucio's voice came from the small gadget. “Hey, are you alone?” Jesse confirmed this, and Lucio continued. “Great. Just got off a call with Winston, he asked me to pass along his best wishes, and remind you that the orphanage is open today, and it would be a good idea to go check it out. Everything going ok down there?”  
Hanzo spoke this time. “Everything is fine. We'll go to the orphanage.” He paused. “How are you three?”  
A scuffle from the other end, and then Hana's voice. “Hello you two! We're having a great time! I beat Lucio's ass at Mario cart last night. He doesn't deserve to share a fake name with Luigi.”  
Hanzo and Jesse laughed at the same time, and Lucio came back on the line. “Lena's showering right now, but asked me to say hi. We're doing just fine, keeping an eye on everything from up here. Nothing unusual.”  
There was a pause in the conversation, and then he said, “Well, I guess that's it. Good luck today, you two.”  
“Y'all too,” Jesse replied.  
“Talk to you later,” Hanzo said, and the comm was silent. He looked at it for a moment before biting his lip and looking up at Jesse.  
“I'm going to take a shower. Shall we go to the orphanage afterwards?”  
“Sure thing, hon,” the petname was out of Jesse's mouth before he could stop it. The hurt expression from before was back, and unless Jesse was reading Hanzo wrong, he was annoyed, too.  
“I'm – I'm sorry, Hanzo, I didn't mean to – just, after acting it for Anahera -”  
“Yes,” Hanzo interrupted, scowling, and Jesse knew he'd read him right. Hanzo was bristling – he could almost see the prickles sprouting. “Acting.” He stalked to the bathroom, and Jesse was left standing in the kitchen, alone, and utterly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmm...  
> sidenote: great thing about writing futuristic fanfiction is undoing colonization (sidesidenote: anahera's tattoo is a moko kauae - a traditional tattoo for Maori women to have)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to upload this chapter! I wrote 3/4 of it today within an hour while listening to extremely gay playlists soo..that's the mood for today.

They walked to the bus stop in silence. Jesse'd offered his hand, but Hanzo had pointedly ignored it, and refused to meet his eyes. The bus was almost empty save for an old woman with a long braid down her back, and Jesse spent the entire ride trying to figure out what was wrong. Not that he hadn't _asked_ , but Hanzo wouldn't give him a solid answer. He was beginning to think they'd spend the entire day in silence, until they arrived at the orphanage and found that visitors weren't permitted until two, meaning they had three hours to kill.

 

“D'you...want to go back to the apartment?” Jesse asked tentatively. Hanzo shrugged, and then, seemingly making an effort, shook his head. “No. I don't mind if we get lunch here,” he said. “Or something.”

 

They located a sandwich bar, and it was while they were picking at their food that Jesse finally decided to confront the situation. “Haruki.”

Hanzo looked up briefly. “Mm.”

“What's wrong? And don't tell me 'nothing' again, I know you're pissed at me.” Jesse swallowed, and softened his voice – after all, he wasn't annoyed, he was just frustrated that Hanzo wasn't telling him what he'd done wrong. “I value our relationship, Haruki, and I know you're upset about somethin'. I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me about what it is, or tell me what I've done to make you unhappy.”

 

Hanzo looked frozen, sandwich halfway to his mouth. As Jesse waited, a slice of tomato fell out of it and onto Hanzo's plate.

“Um,” Hanzo choked out eventually. “It's...”

He put his sandwich down, resting his hands on the table, and met Jesse's eyes with some difficulty, speaking low so that nobody else could hear – a precaution he needn't really take, as the cafe reverberated with noise, and Jesse was having difficulty hearing him as it was.

 

“It's stupid, um. It just feels strange and –“ he sighed. “Jesse, I'm not angry at you, really. I am a little – ok, a lot, hurt, and I let it out as annoyance. Which I'm sorry for.” His voice wavered in trepidation, but he powered on. “I've found it...uncomfortable, to go from one extreme to another. From touching each others' arms and calling each other honey to pointedly not touching.” He squared his shoulders, something he did when he was gathering determination. Jesse had seen it a thousand times, in the practise range during a particulary difficult sim; in the mess hall when Genji challenged him to a fluffy bunny match; playing Mario Kart against Hana.

“Wherever we're stationed together, you have always been physically affectionate. I'm used to it, and – it's nice. You know that I'm selective in who can be physically affectionate with me.”

This was true. When Hanzo first arrived at Overwatch, he wouldn't touch anyone save for handshakes. Poor Lucio had been denied several highfives, followed by awkward silences. It had taken a long while, even after they'd been friends for some time, for Hanzo to feel comfortable with casual touching from Jesse; shoulder bumps, knees touching under the table when they sat near each other, fingers grazing when they did crosswords together.

Hanzo continued. “If... _you_ are uncomfortable with continued affection for some reason, when we are not. _..acting_ , _”_ his mouth twisted around the word as though it were sour. “Then I understand, and I'm sorry for being so aloof.” He dropped his eyes again, looking uncertain. Jesse reached across the table to put his hand over Hanzo's. Their rings clinked together, and Jesse smiled down at them.

“I've uh – been thinking this whole time that you were uncomfortable _because_ of the touching. I'm glad you told me.” He lifted his eyes to meet Hanzo's.

“Thank you for adressing it,” Hanzo replied. “And I shouldn't have let my hurt turn to annoyance, you had no idea, and I really am sorry,” he continued after a pause. “It was - I thought you were purposefully pulling away from contact, and then calling me 'hon' felt like you were taunting me somehow.”

Jesse shifted his chair so he and Hanzo were perpindicular instead of parallel. _Probably overkill,_ he thought. _But a nice gesture_. He was right. Hanzo looked pleased.

“Nah, just got into the whole thing. It really did slip out.” Jesse squeezed Hanzo's hand gently, and was surprised when Hanzo laced their fingers together. It was somehow more intimate than just clasping their hands, and a shot of adrenaline rushed to his stomach.

 

“Well...I'm glad we talked about it,” Hanzo said, and, as quickly as he'd joined their hands, they were separated, and he dug into his sandwich again. He leaned into Jesse though, indicating that he wasn't withdrawing from the touch, only very hungry. A woman and her mother at a table a little way away looked over at them and smiled indugently, and Jesse's cheeks grew hot under their gaze.

“You two are such dears,” the older woman warbled loudly as she lifted her tea to her mouth. Hanzo met Jesse's eyes and smiled, looking embarassed. _But not unhappy._

 

They wiled away the afternoon walking along Avon river, and stopped to sit on a bench by the lake to watch the ducks, joining a few other walkers scattered around, brave enough (or acclimated enough) to stand the intermittent snow.

 

It was cold, and Jesse wished he had gloves; rubbing his hand against his prosthesis was blatant masquerade, the cold metal fingers offering no warmth to their (extremely chilly) counterparts. Hanzo gently took Jesse's hand in his own and guided it into his coat pocket. “You should get gloves,” he commented. “Your hand is freezing.”

Jesse smiled slyly. “You think _this_ hand is cold? You should feel the other one.” He whipped his left hand under Hanzo's shirt, laughing when he yelped, “Get your hand out! It's going to turn me into ice!”

They scuffled, sliding to the end of the bench, and Hanzo had to grab Jesse to stop him falling off. “Hand out or I drop you,” he threatened, smile wide, and Jesse slowly lifted his hand out, raising it in the air as though it were a firearm.

“Ok. I surrender. Don't drop me?”

A conflicted look passed over Hanzo's face. Jesse could guess what he was thinking. On one hand, he could drop Jesse into the convenient pile of fresh snow he was currently being held over. On the other...Well, Jesse's hand in his was warming him up, too. He hauled Jesse back over the edge. “You're safe,” he said. “For now.”

 

With an hour remaining until they could visit the orphanage, they abandoned the great outdoors in favour of hot drinks.

“Damn,” Jesse mumbled, browsing the menu. “We're gonna go through our budget for the week just on cocoa.”

Hanzo quirked an eyebrow at him. “Cocoa? Not coffee? Not your beloved pumpkin spice latte?”

Jesse shrugged, not looking up. There was an entire page devoted to hot chocolate selections, and he meant to peruse all there was to offer. “I love coffee as much as the next man -” he glanced up for a millisecond. “ - you know that. But there's something about hot chocolate that makes you feel good and warm inside.”  
“The chocolate?”

“Probably...” He pursed his lips. “Besides. This is a 'hip' cafe. They don't serve pumpkin spice anything.”

 

Over their drinks (Jesse had finally settled on Turkish delight hot chocolate. It was creamy and sweet and he made a mental note to find out how to make it. Hanzo had briskly ordered a flat white, one sugar.) they found themselves fumbling for conversation. Jesse didn't know why; just minutes ago, they'd been laughing over ridiculous anecdotes of Genji, having a competition as to which of them could guess the other's fabricated story. Up until they'd reached the cafe, neither of them had called it – probably because Genji, even before deciding to live exactly as a cyber-ninja might, had always been one for extraordinary and unconventional adventures.

Their cause for their current predicament may have lain in their close proximity. The table they were seated at was in a corner, and their knees bumped together with every movement. Giving up, Jesse let his simply rest against Hanzo's, and tried again to bring up a subject which they'd both be interested in, only to find himself speechless. It was just...something about Hanzo's lips. He couldn't help himself from imagining them on his. They would be soft and warm and sweet. Maybe Hanzo would brush his fingers over Jesse's cheek, hold his jaw in one hand...

 

“Joel?” Hanzo's voice brought him back to the cafe with a jolt. “Are you ok? Is there foam in my beard?”

Jesse felt himself flushing. At least Hanzo hadn't realised he'd been staring at his lips – although something about the interaction felt familiar. Had he done that before?

“Uh – yeah, hang on,” he had to give an excuse for staring at Hanzo's mouth for the time that he did, so he breached the few inches of space between them, wiping imaginary foam from Hanzo's goatee, letting his fingers linger just a fraction of a second longer than he might normally have over the greying strands. “...All gone.” He flashed what he hoped was a confident smile. “All ready to meet our kid, because -” Jesse leaned to the side a little, peering around Hanzo. “-It's two o'clock. How's about we get going?”

Hanzo stood hastily, knocking the salt and pepper over. He hurried to right them, standing back when he'd done so. “Let's – yes, let's go.”

 

They reached the orphanage just as the snow began to come down again, more furiously than before. It looked like it might turn into a blizzard. Jesse voiced this to Hanzo as they made their way through the revolving doors and into a large, empty lobby, who agreed, looking less than comfortable about the subject. “I know we've only been there one night, but I can't wait to get back to our apartment and fall into bed.” At least the lobby was heated.

They seated themselves on a couch, and Jesse was about to respond in assent when the receptionist appeared from behind the desk. Their nametag read 'Claude'.

 

“Gentlemen,” they greeted Jesse and Hanzo. “Do you two have an appointment?”

Hanzo and Jesse exchanged panicked looks. “N...o,” Hanzo replied eventually, drawing it out. He shuffled closer to Jesse on the couch, looping their arms together. It made Jesse feel better, at least – with both of them seated, Claude towered over them. Hanzo squared his shoulders. “Did we need one?”

Claude tutted audibly. “Ideally, yes – but I suppose...no matter. If you will fill out these forms, I will arrange a meeting for you.” They handed the two of them a three-page form each, and disappeared again. When they returned, Hanzo and Jesse gave them the forms back, filled in with their fake names, families, dates of birth, and other fabricated details of their faux lives.

After looking over the forms briefly, Claude ushered them into a small room behind their desk. “Mr Bedi will be with you in a moment.”

 

Mr Bedi was a large man with a wide smile. His eyes twinkled – no, they glittered, a flash of malice rather than kindness. Jesse was on edge from the moment he walked into the room.

 

“Good afternoon,” Mr Bedi greeted them, seating himself at the round table in the centre of the room and gesturing to the other chairs. Jesse caught Hanzo's hand in his as they sat. Mr Bedi glanced at their clasped hands and immediately averted his eyes, looking down at the papers in his hands. “You're looking to adopt?”

 

Hanzo and Jesse shared a look, and Hanzo smiled encouragingly. He squeezed Jesse's hand gently, and Jesse nodded. “Yes. We're excited about this new chapter of our lives.”

 

*

This 'new chapter', as it turned out, had a hell of a long prologue; Jesse felt they must have been in that small room for hours, discussing legal factors and familial matters.

He was used to this kind of work – it was Hanzo who hadn't done as much of this as he had. His style before being recruited into Overwatch had always been much more...violent. By the time they'd finally finished, Hanzo sprang up. “Can we meet the children now?”

 

Mr Bedi pursed his lips, an apologetic look over his face that didn't spread to his eyes. Jesse was beginning to think that perhaps he was just like that.

“Sorry, Mr Morricone, it's in our policy to review your information before you can meet the children. You and your husband can leave now, and we will phone you once the parent taskforce has looked over your papers.”

Jesse nodded. “Loud and clear. How long d'you estimate that's going to take?” _Gotta get information to Winston_ , he thought.

“Within a week, I should say,” Mr Bedi replied, and opened the door leading back out into the lobby, gesturing for them to exit through it. “Thank you for coming in, and I hope we will be seeing you again.”

Claude was nowhere to be seen in the lobby. Hanzo and Jesse said goodbye to Mr Bedi, and reluctantly went back out into the cold.

Despite only being four in the afternoon, the sky was dark, and streetlights were on. Hanzo slipped his hand into Jesse's, and they were both glad for the shared warmth. “Fucking freezing,” Hanzo muttered as they stamped snow at the bus shelter, trying to keep their feet warm while they waited for their transport home. Jesse mumbled in agreement. He could barely feel his nose.

 

“Why don't you...” Jesse opened his arms, and Hanzo nodded, fitting himself into Jesse's embrace and wrapping his arms around Jesse's ribs in response. It was considerably warmer, and Jesse wasn't sure if the heat in his chest was because of their closeness or...because of their closeness.

 

He felt Hanzo exhale huffily over his shoulder, and heard the grin in his voice when he said, “Genji and I used to make our breath steam in cold air during winter in Hanamura,” he breathed out again. “We'd pretend to be our dragons.”

Jesse 'hmm'd'. “You two were real close as kids, weren't you?”

Hanzo's reply was quiet. “Yes.”

Jesse held him a little bit closer and a little bit tighter.

 

The bus' approach was muffled by the snow coating the streets. Its doors opened with a _shhhh_ and Hanzo and Jesse clambered on, shaking snow off their feet as they entered. They sat by a window near the back. Hanzo watched the city whizz by outside, and Jesse watched the orange light of the streetlamps flit over his face. The stillness of the trip was almost a mirror of that morning, except this time their fingers were twisted together and the quietness between them was mutual and not out of annoyance.

 

Hanzo turned to Jesse, haloed by the glow of the street as they neared their stop. “Are you ok?”

Jesse nodded. Hanzo's head was outlined with gold, and he looked ethereal. “Just admiring the view.”

Hanzo smiled and ducked his head. “Come on,” he nudged Jesse to stand, and they trudged back to their apartment, flakes of snow drifting into their hair.

 

*

While Hanzo showered, (“I swear, I can still feel your freezing hand on my stomach,” he'd complained while fetching a towel from the cupboard. “You left a ghost hand on me,”) Jesse started dinner, falling back on a comfort recipe to fight the cold. The repetitive motion of chopping tomatoes and onion were familiar and soothing, and soon the smell of frying taquitos filled the kitchen.

 

He'd loved cooking since he'd joined Blackwatch; he hadn't realised food could be so much more than the flavorless bullshit Deadlock had been feeding him.

Gabe had made sure he ate right those first few weeks, after an incident where he discovered Jesse hadn't eaten all day. _I ate yesterday, boss_ , Jesse'd told him, bemused. Gabe took him to the mess hall and supervised the demolition of several servings of shepherd's pie while explaining that he could eat everyday – and that, in fact, it was required. He taught Jesse not only to eat, but to cook, as well, and they'd practise recipes until they were perfect, adding their own twists. Even with Gabe gone now, this was something Jesse could still do 'with' him.

He turned a taquito in the pan and admired its golden-brown colour. _Ready_.

Hanzo appeared in the corridor, hair twisted up into a towel cap. “That smells great, Jesse,” he said. After a day of referring to each other by their fake names, hearing Hanzo saying his real name felt...nice.

“Almost done,” he replied. “Could you get a couple of plates out?”

 

It was weird, eating at the small table, just the two of them. The window beside the table looked out over their street; snow was still falling, a little more heavily than before, and it looked like a completely different world. It was almost like they'd been transported into a different life, where they were Haruki and Joel Morricone, on their way to adopting a child, eating dinner together like a normal couple.

 _We're not a couple, though_ , Jesse thought, and he was back in reality. “Do you like the taquitos?” he asked. Hanzo nodded, mouth full. That was answer enough.

 

After dinner, they did the dishes together, Hanzo washing and Jesse drying and putting away. Hanzo found a radio that looked like it was a thousand years old, and they set it to the nearest station to serenade them. It crackled out old tunes sung by people with nasal voices and twangy guitars, but it wasn't so bad. Jesse picked up on the chorus of some of the songs, and sang along. He and Hanzo laughed and talked together, working in symbiosis, and they were finished within minutes.

 

“Tea?” Hanzo asked, already boiling the water.

“Sure thing,” Jesse wandered into the lounge to open up his laptop closer to the heat pump, connecting his comm to it so they could videocall the base. Hanzo joined him with mugs of steaming tea. It was milky, sweet and salty.

“Mongolian tea,” Hanzo explained. “My father could make it better than I can, but I think it's still ingestible.”

 

The call to Lucio went through, and they relayed the limited intel they'd gained that day. The call dropped briefly, and the lights flickered at the same time. Jesse frowned. “Might get a power outage,” he said. “It'll probably be more effective if you get a hold of Winston.”

Lucio nodded. “No problem. Do you guys wanna say hi to Lena and Hana before your power goes out?”

 

Hana only stayed on-screen for a few moments; “I'm in the middle of a match,” she explained, waving her controller at them before disappearing again. Lena was more talkative. “I got a quarter of a tattoo today!” she told them. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for Emily, but we had to leave quickly to pick up Hana's mecha.” She rolled up her sleeve to show them a thin curved line on her forearm, wrapped in gladwrap. Lucio looked at it in distaste.

 

Hanzo frowned. “Lena, what is it?”

Lena opened her mouth excitedly to tell them, but the call dropped. The lights flickered and went out.

“Ah. Shit.” Jesse fumbled around by the light of his laptop for his phone. “Reckon there are any candles or torches in here?”

 

He and Hanzo located a large torch shaped like a lantern in the bathroom cupboard, and brought it back to the lounge.

“We could watch a movie?” Jesse suggested, looking at his battery life. “My laptop's fully charged, and I've got a pretty wide selection.”

 

They settled on _This Beautiful Fantastic_ , an old movie about a woman who had to confront her fear of the outdoors and tame her garden in order to placate her elderly neighbour. Hanzo dragged the duvet off their bed and they huddled underneath it, trying to keep warm without the heat pump. It was strange to be in a place without the main source of power being solar, but the building was old. Besides. The combination of the heavy feather duvet and the heat in his chest and Hanzo's body beside his kept him warm enough.

 

The movie ended on a melancholy note, and Jesse was glad he wasn't watching it alone. Hanzo stretched, but not away from him. He shifted himself so that his head was on Jesse's lap. “I enjoy gardening,” he said, watching the credits scroll. Jesse raised his eyebrows. This was news to him.  
“I had no idea. Didn't think you were really one for it.”

Hanzo looked up at him. “Satya and I maintain the greenhouse,” his eyelids fluttered closed. “It wasn't a secret.”

 

Now that he mentioned it, Jesse supposed this did explain the frequently dirt-covered hands, the trips to the farmers market once a month, the disappearances after lunch every second day. He'd thought Hanzo just enjoyed dirt and farmers markets and being alone. “Huh.”

 

Hanzo smirked, his eyes still closed. “We grow the fresh herbs you use in your cooking.”

 

The laptop chirped, letting them know it was connected to the internet again. “Power's back on,” Jesse said. “Want me to turn the lights on?”

Hanzo shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied. “You're comfortable and warm.” This suited Jesse, and he dropped his hand to his lap, untwisting Hanzo's hair from its ribbon and carding his fingers through the still-damp strands. They let silence fall in the dark room, the torch casting soft shadows around them. A strange feeling was sitting in Jesse's stomach; half-adrenaline, half-contentment. It had something – everything – to do with Hanzo's face looking so serene, the gentle light softening the hard lines of his face. His grey hairs looked gold in the light of the lantern and the thought _he looks ethereal_ crossed Jesse's mind again. Hanzo's eyes opened and met his.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice quiet, barely a whisper, and yet loud in the still room. Jesse couldn't tell him that he'd been thinking he looked like an angel, and he shrugged. “Just...about the mission.” Was he imagining things, or did a look of disappointment flit over Hanzo's face? “About how – how I'm glad we're in it together.”

“I'm happy we are, too,” Hanzo replied. He lifted one hand to the side of Jesse's face, and slid his fingers through Jesse's hair slowly, coming to rest on the scruff of Jesse's jaw. He looked directly into Jesse's eyes, blinking slowly.

Jesse was frozen. Hanzo's eyes were so deep and full, pupils dilated and staring right into his own. He bit his lip, the feeling in his stomach dancing wildly. He carefully reached up and took Hanzo's hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Hanzo's eyes shut again, and he turned his head to the side, gently pressing his face into Jesse's stomach and the duvet.

“I sound old saying this at ten,” Hanzo muttered into Jesse's shirt, “But can we go to bed soon?”

 

*

Jesse showered while Hanzo got into bed. He washed his hair under the hot stream of water, reliving his fingers through Hanzo's hair as he washed out the suds. He closed his eyes as the shampoo bubbles ran over his face, and thought of Hanzo's dark black-tea eyes looking into his own.

By the time he'd brushed his teeth, Hanzo's light was off and he looked to be asleep. Jesse got into bed quietly so as not to wake him. He felt a little strange cuddling up to Hanzo without permission or reciprocation, so he just rested one hand on Hanzo's waist and settled half a foot away. Hanzo turned over to face him, still awake, but only just. “You don't need to stay away,” he murmured, and pulled Jesse closer to him. “You'll be cold.” He rested one of his hands on Jesse's head and held him to his chest. “Sleep well, Jesse.” Jesse wrapped his arm around Hanzo's stomach, and mumbled, “'night, Han.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! That's basically all the setup done now, and they'll be getting into some investigation and child-meeting next chapter, which should be out within the next couple of weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a little longer to write than i meant to, sorry! it's unbeta'd, as usual, so i'll go through and correct any mistakes once i have the time. I just wanted to get this up asap. Enjoy!

Winston called them the next morning to discuss tactics. They were to familiarise themselves with the orphanage, and its motives.

“I'm afraid you will have to gather information on _who_ is connected to the orphanage youselves,” he told them apologetically. “We still have very little intel on the place, although Lena's team is working on it.”

He briefed them on what Lena and her team _had_ found out; their comms could be compromised. He ended the call by telling them that he likely wouldn't be calling them directly again. “Athena managed to secure this call,” he said, “but we're not sure if that will be possible again. From now on, when you have information, call the Auckland team from a payphone.” He recited the number they should call, and the prefix, 83-. “We're already working on securing your lines, but until then, only use payphones. Keep your comms on you anyway, just in case, but don't use them – even to call each other.”

 

Hanzo and Jesse looked at each other as they digested this information. Had their communication devices been compromised due to an interaction in Christchurch or Auckland, or had it been from external hacking?

“We copy, Winston,” Hanzo said eventually.

“Very well. Good luck to the both of you,” Winston farewelled them.

 

 

 

That week, they spent as much time as possible in the city; watching the orphanage and its staff from afar, reading up about it in the news records at the city library; picking up on local chatter.

 

Without being able to use their comms, they had to fall back on their phones for contact.

Hanzo liked to use emojis, which Jesse found both frustrating and endearing. It was difficult to interpret texts when, more often than not, they consisted of solely cat faces or knives. After some texting back and forth, Jesse figured the knives were a constant.

 _Got to keep you on your toes_ , Hanzo texted him when he'd asked, followed by six cat faces and one knife. Jesse replied with a single, evil cat face. Then he looked over the top of his phone at Hanzo, sitting on the other end of the couch, and winked.

 

*

 

Friday evening found Jesse at the library, poring over a screen showing him local news from the past year. It was almost closing time, and the buses stopped in just a couple of hours more. He was skimming over the pages and pages of information, and had just reached the six month point from present – the radioactive lab breach. A somewhat hush-hush company eerily named Symbiosis with labs all over the country. What they specialized in was only speculated at; different news sources suggested medical equipment, omnics, and even nuclear weapons. Jesse thought this last one was pretty farfetched – the production and use of nuclear weapons had been outlawed before he'd even been born, and he had no doubt that if Symbiosis had been seriously suspected of producing them, they'd have been investigated and shut down long ago.

 

The breach itself was, somehow, even more mysterious than the company. There were six labs in the South Island, and five in the North, all spread out and isolated from anything else. They appeared to have suffered breaches at the same time, and hundreds of employees died. It was mainly omnic employees who survived, contacting authorities from the base, but not asking for help – the radiation was too strong, and so they were quarantined until arrangements could be made to get them out.

Jesse wrinkled his forehead as he read. Most of the human employees who'd survived the initial breach died of lack of treatment before they could be rescued from the quarantine.

It was rather sobering to learn of the hundreds of lives lost, and Jesse's leg started anxiously jumping beneath the table.

 

The article had no more to tell him, and he began searching for more information again. He was so absorbed that he didn't notice Hanzo until he'd placed a coffee in front of him. “Pumpkin spice chai latte,” he announced.

Jesse gratefully pulled it close to him, savouring the warmth in his hand as much as the smell. “Thanks, pumpkin,” he winked at Hanzo to draw attention to the fitting petname. Hanzo's mouth quirked upwards in a smile. He sat down in the chair next to Jesse, sipping carefully on his steaming coffee. It smelled suspiciously like pumpkin chai latte, too.

 

“Find anything?” He peered over Jesse's shoulder to skim the article Jesse had just flicked past; it was a brief detailing of a sailing competition.

“Yeah, got some stuff on the lab breaches. Place called Symbiosis.” Jesse quickly filled him in on what he'd learned, and Hanzo listened. He was quiet for a while afterwards. “Symbiosis is an experimental medical company. They meddle in biology.”

Jesse stared at him, jaw slack. “Huh?”

Hanzo opened his mouth to speak again, snapped it shut, looked around them, and muttered, “we need to go somewhere with fewer people.” He stood and waited for Jesse to follow suit, packing up his gear, before they left the building.

Jesse knew better than to press him for where they were going while there were people around; if Hanzo had said he couldn't relay this information while in the presence of strangers, then he trusted that instinct, and respected the need for privacy, whether that need was personal or professional.

 

They walked aimlessly for a few blocks. Jesse sipped on his chai as they navigated the streets, following Hanzo. Eventually they slowed to a stop by a small park. There was a pagoda in the centre of a pond, accessible by a thin bridge. With almost no protection against the chilly wind, the park was bare of anybody but them. Hanzo ushered him across the bridge before following. Jesse sat down on one of the benches lining the walls, but Hanzo remained standing, hands in his pockets, his prosthetic toes scuffing the floor.

 

“I was with Symbiosis,” he started, but stopped immediately, squinting his eyes and biting his lip as though he regretted beginning. Jesse leaned back, crossed his ankle over his knee, and said, “Take your time, Han.” He got a grateful look for that.

After a moment's more scuffing, Hanzo fell onto the bench next to Jesse, and started speaking again, staring straight ahead.

“Winston knows – well, some of it – but I asked him not to tell anyone yet. I should have told you earlier, as it might be relevant, but...I guess I was – I was ashamed.” He stuttered this part out, face impassive but voice apprehensive.

 

“Early on in my self-imposed banishment from the Shimada clan, I tried to get rid of my dragons. I blamed them for killing Genji, too wrought in grief to fully take it on myself. It was cowardice, and foolish. I looked for a way to tear them from myself so that I could leave Hanzo Shimada behind. Had I succeeded...I might very well be Haruki Kurihara right now,” He gave Jesse a wry smile, still not quite meeting his eyes. “Or Morricone.

 

“Through some of my more-informed clients, I discovered the existence of a company still in its youth. Symbiosis. I was told they would be interested in researching my spirit dragons, and might have the ability to remove them. So I left Japan and came here, and had I not asked to be part of what they were doing, they would have asked me.” He paused to take a drink from his coffee cup, this time glancing at Jesse. Jesse was watching him closely, silently taking in every word he said. Usually he allowed his face to showcase his emotions, but in this case, it was unreadable. It made Hanzo nervous.

“They did experiments. Kept me under close surveillance. I hated every moment of it but I was desperate. Distraut.” Hanzo's voice was developing a pleading tone, not sure what he was trying to convince Jesse of, only that he needed him to understand. To his relief, Jesse nodded, and when he spoke, his voice was warm and comforting, as it always was.

 

“What happened? Did they hurt you, or your dragons?” Not only warm – an undertone of anger, but not directed at Hanzo.

Hanzo shrugged non-commitedly. “They tried to take the dragons, but on the day of the procedure, I lost control. My dragons broke me out of the lab, and the next thing I knew, I was in tiny village in the mountains – more a cluster of houses than anything – in the North Island, weaker than I had been for years, and ignored by Soba and Udon. They were very angry with me. It took months of apologising and wheedling to get them to even speak to me again.

 

“A married couple took me in, Paunamu and Miriana. I was just a child to them, still so young. They had a son of their own, and he treated me as a younger brother. It was a surreal experience.” He finally relaxed in his seat, slumping a little against Jesse. “I didn't want to stay. I didn't trust them at first, and then I was afraid Symbiosis would come looking for me, and harm them. But...” He looked down at the sliver of blue peeking out from beneath his sleeve. “They didn't. I don't know why not. I don't think my dragons can provide hidden protection, or even if they would have done so at the time, what with how angry they were with me, but I haven't ruled it out. Not only that, but I was so weak. It was...the first time in too long that I'd been cared for by people who were concerned with my mental state. They took me to a therapist, gave me the option of taking medication. I declined, but only because I wasn't sure what effects it might have on a body that was under scientific experimentation for half a year.

 

“I was with Paunamu and Miriana for the remainder of the year, and a little way into the next one. They were more a family to me than my own family had been in the years before my father's death. Arguments were about what movie to watch, or who would carry the heaviest bag back from the farmer's market, not about illegal weapon-trading businesses or unwillingness to murder my own brother.” Hanzo's voice was bitter, and tinged with sadness. “I had to leave eventually. They'd helped me long enough.” He snapped out of his nostalgic reverie, and laughed dryly. “I'm sorry, I was supposed to be telling you about Symbiosis, not my foster family.”

 

“You're alright, honey,” Jesse put his hand on Hanzo's, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “I can tell they were important to you. I'm glad you told me...not just because it's relevant, but because I'm your friend. I care about you.”

Hanzo smiled softly. “Thank you, Jess.” They sat still for a moment, and then he spoke again. “Symbiosis is dangerous, and organised. I don't know that a nation-wide breach would have been possible.”

Jesse frowned. “What are you saying?”

Hanzo looked uncomfortable, but explained, half-thinking aloud. “I'm not – not explicity saying that I think it was an inside job, but I think it could have been. There was some tension within its ranks even at its beginnings. The scientist most involved with me had conflicts with many of the others, and moral beliefs that even Symbiosis disagreed with. Of course, I have no way of knowing if she remained with them or if she's even still alive...” he trailed off. Now Jesse looked uncomfortable.

 

“You said she's the one who was involved most with you? She was interested in your dragons?” He fought to keep his voice steady, old anger rising, clawing at his chest.

Hanzo nodded, looking wary. “She was in charge of all procedures and tests on me.”

Jesse set his jaw. “You remember what she looked like? Remember her name?”

Hanzo remembered in vivid detail. “Pale, Irish, red hair, heterochromia. Her name was Moira O'Deorain.”

 

*

 

Jesse was jittery and _angry._ Fuming, he marched down the block, muttering about needing to call Luc-Luigi, and _now._ Hanzo trailed behind him, noting the distinct lack of payphones.

“Joel, stop,” Hanzo jogged a little to catch up. “Sweetheart.”

The endearment made Jesse slow down, and he inclined his head toward Hanzo, still walking. “What?”

“Just – allow yourself a moment to digest, ok? Explain to me what's happening, and let your head catch up with your heart.” He gently tugged on the sleeve on Jesse's coat.

He had a point, Jesse grudgingly conceded, and let Hanzo's hand on his arm turn him around and stop. He helf up a finger, indicating that he needed a moment to gather his thoughts.

 

Moira O'Deorain had joined Overwatch, and then Blackwatch, and then, Talon. But maybe she'd had her fingers in more pies than Overwatch was aware of.

While she'd been in Overwatch, O'Deorain nursed an obsessive curiosity for Genji's spirit dragons. Had Angela not insisted that Genji remain in _her_ care, who knows what might have happened. O'Deorain might have manipulated him into an undead being as she did Gabe.

Anger stirred in Jesse as he thought about Gabe and what he became, and it took a great deal of willpower not to let himself get lost in old hurt.

 

“Moira O'Deorain worked for Overwatch,” he told Hanzo eventually, glancing around the street to make sure they were alone. “If she'd had her way, she would have experimented on Genji the way she did to you.” He fixed Hanzo with a curious gaze. “Surprised he didn't tell you himself, actually,” he mused, but didn't dwell on it – he doubted it would be a welcome comment. “She's the one who...who did... _that_...to Gabe.” Even after all this time, it was hard to talk about. A look of understanding passed over Hanzo's face.

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh. Jesse nodded, wordless.

 

“I've heard about her, of course, but she has been a nameless offender, and I didn't want to intrude on any emotional conversations by asking,” Hanzo said. “I should have put two and two together...I cannot really blame Genji for keeping it from me; we have many years to catch up on, and are not yet close enough to share everything.” He shook his head, and slipped his hand into Jesse's. “The busses are stopping in ten minutes. Let's go home and talk about this more, and call the team tomorrow.”

His voice was calm and quiet. Jesse knew it was an effort made for him, considering how agitated Hanzo had been just a half hour ago, and he appreciated it.

 

“Ok,” Jesse agreed, trying very hard to focus on the warmth of Hanzo's fingers between his, and not on the aching in his chest. “Can you cook tonight?”

Hanzo replied that yes, he could. Jesse could see the question _why?_ written all over his face, but he didn't voice it.

 

The truth was, Jesse wasn't just angry at Moira, he was angry at himself. To begin with, he'd been angry at Gabe for even _considering_ Moira's request to experiment on him, but that annoyance had worn off when Jesse walked in on him in his office, gripped by a panic attack, petrified by the things that were happening to him.

Gabe was his family; the closest thing to a father that Jesse had. And Jesse had watched as he was turned into a smoky loveless wraith.

 _Should have done something_. The thought – the accusation – had been circling his head in the years since Gabe had been replaced with Reaper. On good days, he combated it with _wasn't nothing I could've done_. On his best days, it worked, for a while. But on bad days he agreed. _Fucking useless. I left him to die. I wasn't there for him_. He'd just watched as Gabe grew colourless and short-tempered, as he began vaporizing at random times, skin sometimes melting off his bones, only to regenerate grotesquely moments later. He'd tried to be there for Gabe when fear strangled him, but his offers of company were turned down more and more frequently. Eventually, Gabe just wasn't _Gabe_ anymore, and not long after that, things went to shit at the Swiss HQ and Reaper was born.

 

Memories had swallowed Jesse, and it took physical prodding from Hanzo to shake him from them. “This is our stop,” Hanzo told him, gesturing to the bus door, open and waiting for them to disembark.

“Sorry,” Jesse mumbled, getting to his feet. “Lost in thought.”

Hanzo didn't reply, just glanced at him from the corners of his eyes and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. They trudged through the watery snow to their apartment building in silence, both speculating inwardly based on what they'd learned that day.

 

Hanzo made falafels, and Jesse complimented him profusely, filling the silence meant for mission talk with drivel. Eventually, though, they had to talk about Moira, though Jesse managed to postpone it farther by doing the dishes loudly and then taking a long shower.

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo was sitting on the end of their bed, watching as Jesse blow-dried his hair meticulously, going over every lock to ensure maximum dryness and fluffiness. And to attempt to put off talking about Moira.

“Mm,” Jesse replied non-commitedly, appearing to be completely absorbed in his task, though actually paying full attention to Hanzo. He could hear Hanzo crossing and uncrossing his legs, and the the shift of his shirt as he squared his shoulders.

 

“We have to talk about Moira. It doesn't have to take long, but now that we're home, we need to discuss what we'll tell Lucio and the others, and what it might mean for our mission.”

Jesse sighed and switched the hairdryer off, setting it down on the dresser, but not turning around. He was watching Hanzo in the mirror. They made eye contact, and held it. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Now he did turn around, albeit a little unwillingly. “Gotta stop letting personal shit get in the way of our mission.”

He regretted that as soon as he'd said it, realising that it could be taken a number of ways. Each alternative meaning seemed to slap Hanzo around the head, and his face set, but he kept his voice steady.

 

“Every one of us in Overwatch have personal crosses to bear,” he said quietly. “I was essentially O'Deorain's lab rat for almost a year. It isn't only you who she has hurt.” The reminder was softly-spoken but it struck Jesse hard and a wave of shame followed. He crossed the strip of floor between the bed and the dresser and carefully sat next to Hanzo. He didn't touch him, but lay his hand halfway between them for Hanzo to take if he wanted.

 

“You're right. I'm sorry, Han.” Jesse swallowed. “Ok. So what is it you're thinking?”

Hanzo considered the hand lying beside him and decided to accept it, resting his fingers over Jesse's. “I think it is possible she was still involved with Symbiosis six months ago, and was responsible at least in part for the breach. I think she – and by extension, Talon, or vice-versa – is working with Vishkar. I think we would be overlooking information if we didn't consider it as an option. I think...if she _was_ involved with Symbiosis at the time of the leak, there are too many crossovers for it to be coincidence.” He looked tired at the prospect of it, and Jesse knew the same look was echoed on his own face.

 

“I agree with you,” Jesse said, and thought wryly that he wished he hadn't been pushing this conversation away, that he and Hanzo were of course on the same page.

“And Han? I'm sorry for what she did to you. What she tried to do. We're going to find out what she's up to now, if she has a part in this, and we're going to fix it.”

Hanzo smiled at him, genuine affection. “I know,” he replied. “I know that we can do this together.”

 

*

 

Lucio, as it turned out, did not share the sentiment. By seven the next morning, he and Lena were taking turns telling Jesse and Hanzo exactly why they weren't sure the two of them were the best for the job, that maybe they were too close to this, that they should go back to Gibraltar and reorganise and maybe the two of them should be pulled from this mission?

 

Hanzo eventually had enough. Snatching the reciever up, he said curtly, “We have no idea what kind of timeframe we have. Jesse and I work well together, we have already made contact with the orphanage and are gathering information quickly. Do not suggest to Winston that he pulls us from this.”

 

Silence on the other end. And then Hana, her voice all business, no trace of her usual frivolous self. “He's right. Hanzo and Jesse are good at working together. Plus, they're already there. Let's just relay this to Winston, let the two of them get on with it, and be ready to jump in as backup. Aka our job?”

 

The other two grudgingly conceded.

“I guess we'll contact Winston then, and talk to you both tomorrow,” Lena said, a little stiffly. Before she could hang up, Jesse blurted, “what was your tattoo? Did you get it finished?”

A pause, and then - “Ye-es.” Lena sounded excited. “But I'm not telling you what! You have to discover it when we see each other again. Something to look forward to.”

Jesse smiled, even though she couldn't see it. “Another thing to look forward to, I think you mean. Miss you guys.”

 

He had succesfully defused the situation, and Hanzo shot him a thankful look. “I miss you three, too,” he added, leaning in to the reciever. The three on the other end clamored to say how much they missed them.

“I miss my player two,” Hana complained to Hanzo. “Lena isn't nearly as good as you are.”

Lena agreed cheerfully, and when they farewelled, it was in good spirits instead of miffed ones.

 

Hanzo slipped his jacket off as they stepped out of the payphone booth; it was warmer than usual today, and his hoodie sufficed. He offered his hand to Jesse, who took it, and they stood in relative silence for a moment, just looking at each other.

“It's Saturday,” Hanzo said suddenly. “I expect there will be a farmers market somewhere close by. Do you want to...?” he gestured vaguely. “We could get brunch. And pick up fresh vegetables.”

 

Jesse _did_ want, very much. “Haven't been to a farmers market in years!” he exclaimed, falling into step beside Hanzo, swinging their hands gently.

He wasn't usually stationed in places where he had the time or means to do so. He used to go to one monthly, with Gabe, when he was in Blackwatch. They'd go into town, trying to look inconspicious (Jesse decidedly failed this point on account of his spurs and cowboy hat, but he looked like an eccentric, not a special ops agent). He and Gabe would shop for produce that they couldn't or didn't grow in the greenhouse, pick things up for agents who'd asked, go for lunch together, have a smoke, and then head back to base to write up a menu for the next month.

 

He was wondering what kind of produce would be for sale at this market when they turned onto the bustling cobbled street, scattered with stalls boasting all kind of fruit and vegetables. Hanzo squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.

“Haruki is the type to enjoy streetfood,” he said. “Is Joel the same?”

Joel was decidedly the same, Jesse decided, and they each bought a mussel fritter to eat while they perused stalls, chatting with stallowners, and filling up bags with food.

Laden down after an hour, they stopped for a rest on a park bench. Hanzo was shuffling the vegetables from bag-to-bag, organising them into different groups (root vegetable, leafy greens, technically-fruit-but-commonly-called-vegetables, etc.) when Jesse's phone buzzed in his pocket. It was from an unknown number and he raised his eyebrows at Hanzo as he lifted it to his ear.

 

“Mr Morricone? This is Claude, from Christchurch Central Orphanage. I'm calling to tell you that you and your husband have been cleared to begin the adoption process. Would you like to make an appointment now?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohohohohohohohohohoho  
> not so much mchanzo fluff today but i can assure you hanzo is still rly gay and jesse is still rly oblivious  
> its basically just canon that hanzo's dragons are called soba and udon now, right? (although i think it's important to mention that I believe wyntera initially coined this, in their fic popcorn redemption)


End file.
